


Holding On

by badboy_fangirl



Series: The Broken Ones Series [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a companion/continuation of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1408522/chapters/2955214">Empty Handed</a>. Beth's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/beth_greene_zps33561e9b.png.html)   
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> Spoilers through all of season four. MENTIONS OF RAPE, POSSIBLE TRIGGERS.
> 
> Title and opening verse from Avril Lavigne's "Holding On," as covered by Mark Salling on Glee.
> 
> A huge thank you to my lovely beta, who made sure y'all got something to read that was good, not lazy! :D

_When it gets cold / And it feels like the end / There's no place to go / You know I won't give in_

"Beth? You asleep?"

She rolls toward the sound of Carol's voice, her eyes landing on the embers of their campfire. 

"No," she replies, her voice very quiet.

It's dark here, so dark that the embers seem like beacons in the night.

Beacons of what, Beth isn't sure. Hope? Death? 

Part of her wants Walkers to come crashing through the underbrush, just take all the choice out of it. She has her moments when her bloody wrist in the bathroom at the farm is the only thing she can think about.

(That's probably why she thinks about Daryl all the rest of the time.)

Carol clears her throat. Beth knows she knows what happened to her, but she hasn't asked yet. She doesn't want to talk about it, anyway. There's nothing _to_ talk about.

"Honey, I just want you to know, I've been there. It doesn't take it away, or make it better, but I just want you to know you're not alone."

She feels the wetness of tears on her cheeks before it registers that what Carol said touched her.

"My mom had this book," she says, sniffing the tears away, barely letting the few that squeeze out make it all the way to her chin. "It had a lot of nice quotes in it, words of wisdom, stuff like that. I remember this one, because I didn't really get it when I was a kid. It said, _A man who's worth your tears will never make you cry._ " She can't make out more than Carol's shape in the darkness, the small lump of Judith resting against Carol's chest, but she stares hard at that place, willing the older woman to say something that will give Beth more comfort than knowing she too had men do brutal things to her. "You think Daryl's the kind of man who would never make you cry, if he really loved you?"

She can't see her, but she can feel the way Carol goes still, how even the air between seems to stop its movement.

"Daryl is absolutely that kind of man," Carol says.

"You think he's still alive, right?" Beth whispers, swallowing hard to keep the tears from coming back. 

"If anyone's still alive, it's Daryl."

And because that's what Beth has wanted to believe all along, she drifts into the first deep sleep she's had since she lost him.

 

 

The first song Beth Greene writes about Daryl Dixon starts brewing in her mind the night she's raped. She lies under the starlit sky, plotting moves against her attackers, and a melody forms in her head.

She even hums it to herself to see if they're paying attention to her.

(They aren't.)

The first lyric cements itself on her tongue after she drops the smoking gun on the ground next to one of the dead bodies.

_Memory, louder than sound, stronger than muscle, runs through me._

 

 

They see two different signs for a place called _Terminus_. Beth feels uneasy about it, but Carol and Tyreese both think they should go and see, at least. They are surviving, but it's difficult, especially with Judith. 

That night, she prays for the first time in a long time. For help, for guidance, for the wisdom of her daddy to rain down on her.

The next morning, as they're breaking camp, a man named Gabriel Sanchez, his wife, and his two teenaged sons come walking out of the woods.

Beth knows an answer to prayer when she sees one.

 

 

When Gabriel tells them that he's a pastor, Beth shares everything about her father's death. Not just his death, but his life, too, and how all the goodness and faith she has managed to hold on to came from him. The long walk allows for a lot of cathartic talking, and the captive audience asks questions if she ever stops.

It keeps her moving forward during the day, just like thoughts of Daryl keep her calm at night. She hoards those things even when Carol asks her for details. She talks about the benign events, hiding in the trunk all night, him teaching her to track, finding the funeral home. She doesn't mention Daryl breaking down, crying in her arms. Or how he'd told her about his life before the turn. Or how he'd let her hold his hand, and asked her to sing to him, and watched her with eyes that haunted her dreams now. 

They didn't haunt her in bad way. With Daryl it was all good. With Daryl it was anything she wanted it to be.

His thoughts were a mystery she wanted to unravel, things she had to interpret based on very little evidence. So she spent hours thinking of each of the things he had done, and trying to figure out if it meant what she thought it meant.

Sometimes, to force out the bad memories of those men who hurt her, she thought of the gentle way his hands had been on her ankle as he wrapped it in a bandage he found in a cupboard; she imagined them on other parts of her body, in the places those men had violated. Not always, but occasionally, the thoughts made her breath come faster, made her ache in a way that reminded her of Zach. 

The few times they fooled around, she suspected that she might really like sex, if she could have focused on him and what he was doing more. Most of the time, though, she was thinking about Judith, or how much food they had and if Daryl might catch something when he went hunting, or what her daddy would think if he knew she was letting a boy put his hand down her pants.

It was definitely fun enough for her to do it multiple times, but she'd never gotten lost in it. It had never consumed her. Zach had been cute, and gung ho, kinda reminding her of a puppy, and he liked her so much that it was almost enough.

In the end, it hadn't been. She never gave herself fully to him, and then he was gone, so it didn't matter that she probably hadn't liked him as much as he liked her.

When she had truly understood that Daryl _liked_ her, when it had sunk in and put steel in her spine, she had been miles from him laying on the cold hard ground, bleeding from between her legs. 

She hasn't cried. Once she realized what was going to happen, and that they didn't care what she wanted, she went some place inside of herself, that place that Daryl had not understood. She thinks he'd be grateful now that she had that place. 

In the darkness of a dying campfire, she feels her cheeks warm when she wonders what he would think of her pretending his hands were ghosting over the skin of her belly and hips, sliding down the front of her to sink between her legs.

She feels guilty about it, and then feels stupid for feeling guilty. But finally one night she asks Pastor Gabriel if she can talk to him privately. She doesn't tell him about her fantasies, but confesses to killing the men who raped her.

Big tears well up in Gabriel's eyes, and he reaches for her, pulling her into a fatherly embrace that she supposes ought to loosen the emotion for her, but it doesn't. 

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Beth," he murmurs, brushing her hair back from her face. "I think killing them was self-defense, but you still have to work through the forgiveness thing. Jesus forgave those who nailed him to the cross; he does expect us to find a way, but I know he's patient as we work through it."

Beth nods and thanks him for listening. Maybe some day she'll work up the nerve to talk about her dirty thoughts about Daryl.

But then the next time Carol brings up Daryl, gently probing for more information, Beth realizes she'll never tell. They are part of her precious cache of memories, even if they're made up. She won't give them away for anything.

Instead she writes the chorus to the song she started weeks earlier.

_Your worship, your devotion, your adoration / Puts me on the pedestal that releases me / Life is ruined, life is over / Lies can no longer bind me_

 

 

The day they arrive in Washington, D.C., Beth can't help but look around--gaping really--nervously. The city reminds her of Atlanta before the turn, or even New York. She'd gone there once on trip with her mother and Maggie when she was 13. They had seen a Broadway show-- _The Lion King_ \--and taken the Ellis Island Tour, and it had been overwhelming for her because she was used to small towns and wide open spaces. At the same time she had loved the feeling there, the _energy_ , her mom called it; she always planned to go back someday, maybe for college or something.

Washington is strangely _busy_. There are cars and people walking everywhere. They are dressed in nice clothes and look like they're hurrying to their destinations.

Not running from Walkers, but going to jobs, or appointments, or meeting their loved ones for lunch.

She even sees a man on a cell phone, and she looks around wildly to catch Carol's eye, to point it out to her. Carol seems equally astonished at what they're encountering, but Gabriel's wife, Lillian, pats Beth's arm. "It's just like we were told. The city is intact."

It turns out, it had never fallen completely apart. When the outbreak happened, there had been protocol to protect the White House, and within the first year they had begun extending their fence borders. They now stretched out over 100 square miles, but it had been a slow process. All the same, their group is amazed as they get inundated with information, when they see that in some ways, for some of these people, life never ceased at all from the way it had been.

Communications failed, and they were unable to protect the rest of the country, but they were back online now, and even established connections with people in various patches across the world. 

Sometimes Beth feels jealous when she meets those people--the ones who never lost anyone, who don't even know what it is to kill a Walker, or to be terrorized by men like the Governor. Beth knows men, women, and children get raped every day all over the world, but the length her attackers went to in obtaining her fills her with so much anger. It gets broader and deeper when she thinks about Daryl in that funeral home with her. How they had found hope there in jars of peanut butter and jelly, how he had found something greater than hope within her. And though she can see it's a blessing to have found this place and to have the chance to start over, every night when she says her prayers she's rattling off a list of people she doesn't know that she'll ever see again. She doesn't try to root the disappointment out of her breast over it, because it's sort of a way to hold on to Daryl, and Maggie and Glenn, Carl and Rick. 

She knows Daryl would be skeptical; he would think they were silly and pretentious in their fancy clothes.

He might even hate them for their ease. She cries many tears in those first few weeks when she realizes she sees them the way he'd seen her; they don't even know how good they have it.

How could they?

She gets a job with the Registration Department, because basically everyone who comes through the fence gets put in somewhere. They're asked what their abilities are in some semblance of a job interview, and because Carol was a stay-at-home mom before the turn, she gets to work in a preschool. The good thing is she can take Judith with her to work. Tyreese takes a position with the Task Force, and spends his days patrolling the city for Walkers; none can get into the city, but people die. With everyone carrying the virus, the threat is always near. 

No one has been bit inside the city for more than six months. Beth misses her _Days Without an Accident_ sign from the prison, and starts keeping a tally on a wall calendar she is given when she starts working at Registration.

The best thing in the world for all of them seems to be assimilating back into the lives they remember. Pastor Gabriel starts a church group. Beth takes the GED because she hadn't really finished high school, though between her father and Patricia she had continued learning once they were confined to the farm.

They all have to go to the doctor soon after they arrive also. They get physicals, have their blood drawn (confirmation on all Walker-infected persons, just for the record), and get tetanus shots. The doctor Beth sees isn't really a doctor at all, but a nurse practitioner named Debbie. She is gentle and kind, as if she's expecting Beth to tell her what she ends up sharing, and Beth realizes there must be a lot of violated women who come in from the outside.

The thought makes her so angry, she almost can't speak. Rage chokes her, not tears, not softness, just pure fury. Debbie does a pelvic exam on her and tells her she's healed just fine, and that everything looks good, but they'll test her pap smear and her blood for any STIs. It's been long enough that Beth already knows she's not pregnant, but honestly she hadn't even thought about any diseases. Her stomach heaves and she sways on her feet, which Debbie notices so she invites Beth to sit back down.

"I know some rape counselors," Debbie says, writing a phone number down on a piece of paper for Beth. "A support group might be a good idea."

Beth pockets the number, but decides Pastor Gabriel is all the counselor she needs.

(Debbie calls a few days later to tell Beth she's clean.)

 

A couple of weeks later, she and Carol move into a little house with Judith. It has three bedrooms, and while it feels too big for them, because Carol keeps the baby in a crib in the room she takes, they soon find themselves filling it up. Tyreese comes over on a regular basis, and they all make easy friends with people from work.

The street they live on is one that actually got taken over by Walkers at one point, but had since been redeemed and put behind the safety of the fence. The house had fallen into some disrepair, and whomever had once lived there had left most of their furniture and belongings. 

All the same, Carol suggests that they re-paint the rooms, do things to make the place uniquely theirs, so they head to the hardware store. Beth chooses yellow for her bedroom, and hangs gossamer curtains in the window that have daisies embroidered on them. 

In the living room, they settle on a deep red for one wall, and powder blue for the remaining walls. They never speak about it, but to Beth it's a memorial. The red is all the blood behind them, all those they've lost, and the blue is hope, hope that somewhere, somehow, those people who are never far from their thoughts are safe.

_Blue is the color of all the tears I spilt  
Knowin' you'd wipe them away, if you could_

They sit on their over-stuffed sofa watching Judith play with her toys in the middle of the floor, and Beth smiles. She turns her head to look at Carol on the other end of the couch; she has red paint on one of her cheekbones. "If I never see him again, it doesn't change anything, you know. Maybe I could've only fallen in love with him from far away."

Carol's eyebrows go up in surprise; Beth can see that she's not shocked at knowing this, just at hearing it aloud when she's been so stingy with the information she shared about Daryl.

"Knowin' Daryl, he'd have tried to talk you out of it, anyway," Carol says, nodding her head. "If you ever see him again, he won't be able to convince himself it's something other than what you say."

Beth's chest gets tight, the emotion too heavy with no place to go. She'd give anything to see him again.

 

 

"So, look here." 

Lydia, Beth's immediate supervisor, says as she leans over her shoulder, pressing buttons on the computer keyboard. "Put your sister's name in here, and her birthdate, and if she ever comes in, it will flag it. You'll get a notification, immediately. If you're at your desk when it happens, you'll know the moment she comes in."

Beth types in the information as Lydia's standing there. Then her friend asks, "Maggie's your only surviving family?"

Beth nods. "Blood kin. I have lots more family, though. I know their birthdates, too. Can I flag all of them?"

"Yes, if you know their birthdates. No point getting your hopes up without two confirmations. The odds of the same name and the same birthday are, like, one in a million."

Lydia goes back to her cubicle, leaving Beth sitting there. She types in Carl and Rick's information, as well as Glenn's. She wants to put Daryl's name in, but when she realizes she doesn't know his birthday, she nearly loses it.

She remembers his angry face, the accusation about not shedding tears for Jimmy or Zach.

She won't shed tears for Daryl because he's not dead.

_He's not._

 

 

Seeing the alert for Maggie's name (a flashing red pop-up on her screen) causes Beth to scream, scaring everyone in the office with her. She runs to the door that leads to the outer room of Registration, and though there are about twenty people milling about, her eyes find her sister instantly. Bedraggled, dirty, but still Maggie, with an incredulous expression of surprise as she spots Beth.

"Beth!"

Beth has the presence of mind to get rid of the dress shoes she's wearing before she takes off running. As she and Maggie joyously collide, she sees Rick and Carl, but the momentum of her body takes them both down to the floor. She feels Maggie start laughing, and she thinks she's laughing, too, only there are tears as well, and she's just hysterical, all the way around. 

Someone pulls her to her feet, and she's eye to eye with Carl now. He's grown so much since the last time she saw him. They're all saying her name, but in the midst of all of it, what she hears is Rick's voice, raised above the cacophony of sound. "Come _here_!" he shouts.

And then, "Daryl!" even louder.

Beth's head snaps up, and she feels her neck pop, a shooting, tingling sensation racing down her spine. She's clustered in the middle with everyone surrounding her like a happy swarm of Walkers. But when she hears his name, she only has eyes for him.

She _knew_ he wasn't dead.

She should have known he would find their family and bring them all back to her, somehow. 

(Because he's Daryl Fucking Dixon.) 

As happy as she is to see everyone, to be clasped in their arms, and feel their hands touching her hair, her arms, her back, she pushes free from all of them as her eyes lock on his face. 

She can see everything that she clung to through her darkest days, right there in his expression. It hadn't been a fantasy that she made up to survive. It was real; _he_ was real, and the light in his countenance reaches out to her, pulling her home with speed and precision.

She's across the floor and in his arms before she's even completed the thought. She hits him hard, feels him grunt under the impact of her chest against his. His arms wrap around her even harder, holding her there, in place.

He smells familiar, another thing that had haunted her in a _real_ or _not real_ way; the vague scent of leather from his old vest, and the open road, and whatever made him _Daryl_. In her ear, his voice is soft, rough. "You," he says. "It's you."

She clutches him desperately, not caring what anyone thinks. "It's me," she says back, and it's irrevocably the truth. 

All the parts of her have finally returned; all the reasons she kept breathing, and pressed on, have come back to her.

Beth is, and has always been, the luckiest girl in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/BethylYOU_zps85697f9f.gif.html)

_You're not alone  
Together we stand  
I'll be by your side  
You know I'll take your hand_

If she thought the memory of his eyes was provoking, it's only because she hadn't been as aware of his gaze before when it had been on her.

Now, wherever she goes, whatever she's doing, she can feel him watching her because he really is. In her office, he's mostly talking to Carol, but his eyes keep straying to her, drifting over her like familiar fingertips. And then all the way to the Housing Department, she can feel it again.

That night at the big dinner the Sanchez's throw for them, she's seated straight across from him purely by accident, and every time she looks at him he's already looking at her. Even when she glances at him in horror as Rick talks about the people who held them hostage in Terminus, who made them listen to others being tortured in an effort to keep them in line, and who eventually forced them to kill or be killed, his eyes are steady and full of something disconcerting in a completely different way.

She knows he wants her, even though he'll never say it. In fact, she thinks Daryl might never have a real secret from her ever again, because when he's staring right at her, there's just no room for speculation. She can feel different parts of her warming up at the thought. At the blatant appraisal, the obvious appreciation, the pure adoration.

She is 18 years old, she knows that romantic notions are supposed to be part of her every day thought processes. She is unprepared for just how romantic Daryl is in the flesh, because he'd been pretty damn romantic in her imagination. She'd been rescued again and again by the thought of him, but it pales in comparison just being in a crowded room with him.

She feels badly that Maggie wants her attention, wants her to come and curl up under a blanket and talk all night with her like they did when they were kids, when their biggest worry was lying to their daddy about what they were fighting about. All she wants to do is be with Daryl, but she knows she can't do that, not tonight. She manages to hug him goodnight, sliding up under his arm, causing him to jump like a Walker got him, but then when he realizes it's her, his arm tightens painfully, crushing her against his chest.

She whispers, "Goodnight, Daryl Dixon," and watches him swallow. He nods his head at her, his mouth in a hard grimace, but he might as well have shouted something devastatingly private because the emotion in his eyes makes her whole body feel hot.

She's not sure how she manages to let Maggie take her away. Carol leads them all back to the house, and Maggie talks non-stop. She talks about getting out with Sasha and Bob, searching high and low for Glenn, for the miraculous way they were reunited, and Beth understands that all her praying hadn't been in vain. She listens because at this point she doesn't have much to say anyway, and it's taking all her self-control to stay still. As much as she wants to hear what Maggie's saying, and be with her sister again, Daryl is this pressing issue, this thing that's hanging unresolved. 

She knows she'll see him tomorrow, but that feels like a lifetime away. After nearly six months of dreams and fantasies, the real thing is so close, but so far at the same time.

About an hour later, Glenn intervenes, and for the first time in her life Beth thinks she could kiss her sister's husband.

"Maggie?" he says, wedging himself between the two sisters. "I hate to do this, interrupt all this and everything, but I'm exhausted. I need to sleep, and I need to tell Beth something, so you're gonna have to stop talking, okay?"

Maggie flushes, embarrassed in that way that doesn't really bother a person when they're with their family. She nods, clapping a hand over her own mouth to silence herself. Her eyes shine brightly, her joy at being there so loud Beth can still hear it even when her voice has stopped.

She feels the same way, she truly does. She just has a lot of it to go around at this point.

"I just wanna say," Glenn begins. The earnestness that endeared him to their entire family right from the start encases each word. "That it would be real nice if you could talk to Daryl and make sure he knows you don't blame him for anything bad that happened out there. He has beat himself up this entire time, ever since you got separated. And, seriously, Beth, I saw him smile, _twice_ , tonight, and it was a freaking miracle, because he hasn't smiled since we found him again. He's barely opened his mouth to talk unless we forced him, too, and most of that was sad or mad or both. I just...it's really important that--"

Beth throws her arms around her brother-in-law so hard it knocks the wind out of him. "Thank you, Glenn. _Thank you._ " She jumps to her feet. "I'm sorry, Maggie. But I gotta go. Okay? I'll talk to you tomorrow, I swear. And the day after that, and the day after that. We'll talk _all the time_. But right now, I gotta go."

Maggie's still got her hand clamped over her mouth as she nods her head in agreement. Beth should have realized if anyone would understand, it was her sister. She stopped at nothing to find Glenn.

It isn't that Beth cares more for Daryl than the rest of them; her joy at being reunited with everyone was immeasurable, even Bob and Sasha, whom she hadn't known very well. She's been happier thinking about how excited Tyreese would be to see his sister than anything else. 

It's just _different_ with Daryl. And the urgency coursing through her body to be with him, just in his presence, is unlike any other experience she's ever had. 

She runs out to the garage to find the bike she bought a few weeks earlier. She peddles hard, all the way to the dorms.

 

 

She leaves her bike just inside the door, not caring to lock it up. She knows this building well, it's where she lived herself when they first arrived in D.C. And if someone wants to steal her bike she's fine with that; it's just another reason to stay longer with Daryl.

Because the one thing she wants more than anything is to stay with Daryl _longer_. 

Part of it is the comfort his presence brings, and part of it is the _dis_ comfort. She feels so many things because of Daryl Dixon, and she wants them all.

She stops at the front desk and asks for his room number, and then runs up the stairs full speed. He's on the fifth floor, and by the time she gets there, she's breathless and filled with sudden nervousness. She stands outside the door for several minutes to calm herself.

The memory of his eyes takes the worry right out of her. Daryl needs a hug. Daryl needs to know she's okay. And she needs to know he's okay. Truly. Eyes on and hands on is the only way that's gonna happen, for either of them.

She knocks, and the moments between her hand striking the wood and it swinging open feel interminable. His eyes widen on an intake of breath and Beth forces herself to say "Hey." It doesn't sound cool at all, but there's nothing to be done about it.

His face softens, though, and he just stares at her for a beat as if he doesn't believe she's real. "Hey," he says, his voice low so that she feels it more than she hears it.

He steps back half a pace, shoving the door all the way open so she can slide in under his outstretched arm. She feels like she's darting in before he can change his mind, and any nervousness she felt fades completely. All she cares about is making him feel good. He takes his time turning around, but she wraps herself around him instantly, not letting the distance or silence lengthen.

He feels so good against her, warm and hard, and her eyes fall shut as she buries her nose in his chest. She says, "I'm so sorry," and breathes him in all at once.

His ribcage expands on a shaky breath, but his voice is steady when he says, "Don't worry about me." His hands are under her hair almost before she realizes it, pulling her head away from his body so he can see her face. The tears come out of nowhere, emotion choking her, only to get worse when he continues with, "They hurt you? Whoever took you that night?"

She blinks rapidly until her tears subside. She nods her head. "But I got away."

His fingers curl infinitesimally against her neck, sliding out to caress her cheeks. She can see the anger in him as easily as she feels it within herself, and it's strange how she doesn't want that for him. She just wants Daryl to be happy, to know that she's okay, to _believe_ the way he had for the space of an hour before it all went to hell that one time. She wraps her hands around his wrists, squeezing hard. "'Member that gun I got off that Walker?" she asks him, waiting for the recollection to dawn in his expression. "It was tucked in the back of my pants, and they never checked me. I waited until most of 'em fell asleep and then I shot 'em all, right in the head."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, something in her body breaks. Like a literal dam inside her. Unlike when she'd told Pastor Gabriel and his tears hadn't moved her at all, Daryl's lack of reaction opens the way for everything to pour forth.

She cries like she never has. Or like all the times she didn't allow herself to cry times about a million.

And this time, it's Daryl holding her, and his voice telling her he's proud of her. This time it's the safest place in the world to reveal that she's not the girl she used to be.

She's someone else now. She's someone who belongs with Daryl.

By the time she comes out of the storm of emotion, he's got her cradled in his lap, and they're sitting on his bed. Beth knows she ought to feel less comfortable here, alone with a man--and not just any man, but probably the most dangerous one she's ever known, and by dangerous, she means the one who matters more than any of the others combined together. 

She is physically safer in this walled city, but she's actually genuinely more vulnerable than she's been since the turn. It won't be Daryl's memory that strengthens her anymore; it will be Daryl's actions, his thoughts, and his feelings, and everything about him that can make or destroy her world.

She rubs her face against his shirt and then realizes what a mess she is, and how she just left a trail of snot across his shoulder. "Oh, gross," she murmurs, wiping at it with her hand. 

She feels his chest move in a little chuckle. "No big deal, got lotsa clean clothes now."

It flashes through her mind again, that quote from her mom's book, _A man who's worth your tears will never make you cry._ She's about to find out, she guesses.

She laughs softly, too, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Wanna know why I killed them?"

He side-eyes her, but there's no hesitation. "'Cause they fucking deserved it?" He says it like a question, but it's not really. She always knew that's what he'd have done. 

In truth, she had done it so when she died, it was on her own terms. She had never imagined that a few days later she would stumble across Carol, Judith, and Tyreese. It had been the hand of God in her life, and looking back now she can fully see that if what she'd done was so wrong, she would never have made it to D.C.

It's funny to realize God gave her Daryl right before He let the most horrible thing that could happen to her happen. 

_The Lord giveth; and He taketh away,_ says her daddy's voice in her head.

Now.

But then, then it had been Daryl's voice. "I could hear you, in my head. _I don't think the good ones survive. I_ was gonna survive. Or at the very least, I wasn't gonna let that be what got me. Walkers can't help what they are; bad men can. You had every reason in the world to be bad, and you're one of the best people I know. And I knew you woulda killed them. There was three of 'em. I had exactly three bullets." A breath escapes her, and the tightness in her chest lifts. She looks away from his face, from the intensity of his eyes. "Poetic, right?"

He snorts a laugh, and Beth feels a smile tug at her lips. His fingers brush gently up her chin before drifting over her cheek. "You ought to write a ditty about it," he says, his voice rich with their shared memories.

She can feel her face go hot at the things she's written, scribbled in notebooks since last she saw him. She imagines he'd be embarrassed to know she's written _ditties_ about him, but he'd probably want to hear them anyway, even if he pretended he didn't.

"I'm not one of the best people you know, Beth," he says.

She would snort herself at that, but she knows he just doesn't see it about himself--at least not yet. She'll have to sing him a song someday, just so he can get it. But that's not today. Today, she just says, "Bullshit. You got me through this, Daryl Dixon, without even bein' there. Best. Person. Period." When his mouth opens and she knows he's gonna try to talk her out of it, she lays a finger over his lips. "Hush."

His eyes smile, even if his mouth doesn't, and Beth realizes he likes it when she bosses him. She likes it, too. She likes that he gives into her in little ways that are actually huge.

"See that, over there?" he asks, dislodging her finger when he tilts his head in the direction of the desk on the other side of the small room.

She follows the path of his eyes, and sees a dark-colored lump sitting atop the desk. "What?" she asks before it registers what she's seeing. Her breath catches and she springs to her feet. "Is that my _bag_?"

"Yup," Daryl says, and she can't miss the glee in his tone. Glenn's insistence that Daryl had been nothing but surly and miserable since they'd met up with him is nothing but legend now. She's glad that he obviously no longer feels that way. She loves that he seems to be as sentimental as he would accuse her of being--correction: he's probably _more_ sentimental. (That's why he'd yelled at her about Zach and Jimmy, she realizes.) She grabs the bag, practically hugging it to her chest as Daryl goes on. "Still got your spoon in it and everything." 

The spoon. 

He's sentimental even when he had no idea he needed to be. If she hadn't already been certain, this is the moment when she would have known for sure. She loves Daryl Dixon with every fiber of her being, with every inch of her body, with every beat of her heart. 

She'll never let them get separated again.

 

 

After that first night, they spend every one together. She tells Carol that she'll be sleeping at Daryl's until she can coax him into sleeping at their house and Carol smiles and shakes her head.

"I already invited him. But maybe what he needs is the invite from _you._ " 

Beth tucks that away for an appropriate time.

Every chance she gets she slides in the fact that his strength kept her alive, and most times he scoffs and shrugs it away, but she knows it's sticking somewhere inside him. If he hears it enough, he'll start to believe.

And besides all that, spending every possible moment with Daryl is all she wants to do. She craves his fingers on her skin, or the easy way he holds her hand, in public and private. She loves the smiles that come more and more frequently, and she and Glenn can't help but catch each other's eyes and give thumbs up when it happens when they're all together.

For all that the two previous years had been full of horror and loss, those first few weeks after they're all reunited in D.C. are some of the sweetest times she's ever known. Even when she tells Maggie about what happened when she was separated from Daryl, it's not so much as to unburden herself and weigh Maggie down as to show her sister how alike they are; they are warriors in different ways, but they are more the same now than they ever were as children. Life has led them to it, molded them into people they don't quite recognize sometimes, but who they are nonetheless proud to be anyway.

The one thing Beth does is go to each member of their family and make her declaration about Daryl. She does it for two reasons: one, she doesn't want there to be gossip about it (and she knows there would be, she and Daryl gossip about Rick and Michonne all the time, but they keep it just between them); and two, she doesn't want Daryl to have to deal with everyone asking him what's going on. He seems more than pleased to be her boyfriend, though neither of them have uttered that word, but she knows it would freak him out if everyone started in on him about it.

She protects him the only way she can; she tells everyone that she loves him, that she's with him, and that they aren't to harass him about it in anyway.

Rick makes a crack about how he always said she was the new sheriff, and when she gives him a look, he immediately stops smiling. Somberly he salutes her. "Yes, sir, officer, sir," he deadpans.

Carl giggles and she points a finger at him. "I mean it. No teasin' Daryl! You know how he is."

Father and son exchange looks and swear their allegiance. 

Beth's glad, because she would have played the Michonne card if she had to. When it comes to Daryl, she's dead serious.

 

 

They start having these moments that remind her of the darkened kitchen of the funeral home. Their eyes catch and hold too long, or a word gets said between them that's loaded with meaning that neither of them is entirely willing to move on just yet.

Or at least, Beth isn't quite there, and if Daryl is, he gives no indication.

(Well, his body gives certain indications, but he studiously ignores that. Beth follows his lead, even though she's starting to have a similar problem. It's just that nobody can tell when it happens to her.)

She finds herself wanting to kiss him, though, more and more with each passing day. The urge becomes more frequent until she seems to exist in a world that only consists of Daryl's lips, and how her eyes are drawn to them. She wonders what they'll feel like, and how he'll taste, and what it would be like _after_ they've kissed, because she genuinely thinks the hardest part is just getting the first one out of the way.

She almost does it one night as they're settling in to bed. They've been sleeping for weeks now on the twin bed in Daryl's dorm, which is silly because she has a double bed back at her house. She's hinted at him coming there at night, but she can tell he's not comfortable with it, so she drops it. The close quarters are at once exactly what she wants, and mildly aggravating at the same time, and she imagines he feels that just as she does because she's seen the heat in his eyes as he looks at her. 

"G'night, Beth," he murmurs, his lips pressed to the top of her head.

She tips her neck back, and when their gazes connect, the proximity of their lips is too close to ignore, at least for her. She wants to bridge the distance so badly her body is instantly thrumming with energy, but his hand surrounds the back of her neck and tucks her up under his chin again. 

He falls to sleep long before she does, and the frustration she feels keeps her awake half the night. In the morning, she's lying atop him in a position she could only have orchestrated while unconscious, and she can't stop herself from leaning forward until her lips are on his. He was awake before her, and she can feel the hard ridge behind his zipper as it presses up into her belly. A breath hisses out of him as she slides her body over his, but there isn't anything slow about the way his mouth opens beneath hers. 

Maybe he was just waiting for her.

His hands slip under her shirt as she lifts herself up and moves her legs to straddle him fully. His palms cover her breasts, and Beth arches into them because of the relief it brings. It only lasts a split second, but the fact that it happens the way it does, so fast, that he obviously has wanted to touch her for ages makes Beth's heart soar and her head spins. And right before he pushes her off him, he squeezes her breasts with a reverence that equivocates just what she thinks she already knows about Daryl.

But then he shakes his head and all but jumps off the bed. He looks terrified, and aroused, but mostly terrified. Beth doesn't have much experience with this herself, and her brain isn't working all that fast because all she wants is to feel more of his lips and hands on her body.

"Daryl--" she starts.

But he blurts, "I'm gonna go," and runs out the door almost before he finishes speaking. She just lays there staring at the wood paneling after it slams behind him, dumbfounded. 

Then she gets angry. 

 

 

She doesn't go straight home. Instead she rides her bike up to the Washington Monument and parks it before walking down to the reflecting pool. She pulls her socks and shoes off, dipping her feet in, remembering how Lydia once told her that before the turn something like that would get you into trouble with D.C. cops. Nowadays, nobody cares about that sort of thing. Despite it being summertime and tourist season (tourism isn't something that's revived just yet, and nobody's really sure it will ever be a thing again), there were only a few people milling around the area.

There was also a time when anger filled her up and there was nothing to be done about it. She had felt paralyzed by the way things had gone, by some of the things that had happened, by the fact that she didn't know where most of the people she loved were; now, everything is different. Feeling mad makes her want to solve it, makes her want to figure out what the hell's going on with Daryl, makes her want to get him back to that place where he told her things that he'd never said to anyone.

Not that they don't talk, because they do, but they have lots of comfortable silences, too. She knows that's what he likes best. Being with her, but not having to say much.

The memory of him angrily yarding on her arm, pulling her down rickety steps, and forcing his crossbow into her arms blindsides her. The honesty that poured out of them both that day had been alcohol-induced. 

Maybe that's what they need now. Only Beth doesn't want to get _lit_ to get Daryl to tell her how he feels; she wants him to just tell her. And maybe part of it was that now that they were doing this, he'd come to realize he didn't really want to. Maggie had asked her not but a couple of days ago if the way she'd felt about Daryl when they were apart was different now that they were back together.

She had answered easily that it was the same, if only more. And right up until he ran out on her, she'd thought it was the same for him.

 _You know what assuming does, girl,_ her daddy whispers in her mind. _It makes an ass outta u and me._

She gets to feet, grabs her shoes and shoves them in her bag. It only makes her angrier to think of him leading her on, letting her sleep with him every night and acting like he was the happiest guy in the world. She had believed those romantic notions she put on him, and as she pedals hard towards home, she doesn't let herself think about this might be her own damn fault.

 

 

She walks in the house to find Carol and Michonne laughing while Judith does some new, cute thing that they haven't seen before. Rick and Carl aren't there, but Beth doesn't have time or patience to wonder where they are. 

She just asks, "Michonne, will you do me a big favor?"

 

 

She knocks on his door, and then turns the handle, not waiting for a shout out from him. Turns out he's not there, and she wonders how long she might have to wait. Carol had told her he stopped by earlier that day, so she figured he must be out looking for her.

Which on the one hand seems good, but the other part of her is scared and unsure in a way she's never experienced before. She's a mess, every emotion she can name coursing through her in rapid succession, but since anger is the one that keeps her from crying, she tries to hold on to it the hardest. 

It's probably only an hour before he finally shows up, but that's long enough for her to be sitting comfortably on his bed with her game face firmly in place.

"Have a seat, Mr. Dixon," she commands, and he about jumps out of his skin.

"Holy shit, Beth," he mumbles, his eyes cutting to her, vague irritation coming out of his expression. He hadn't known she was there until she spoke, and it startled him, but not enough. It'd be nice if he'd start yelling at her because she knows that will amp up her adrenaline, but he needs alcohol in him for that to happen.

So.

She points to the desk chair she situated in the center of the room.

He sits down where she indicated, but his gaze searches her face after he spies the bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor. "Where'd you get that?" he asks.

She knows what he wants to know is _how_ she got it, so she answers what he means instead of what he asked. "I asked Michonne to buy it for me. I told her it was a present for you, so she didn't question it."

He stares at her for a long moment before leaning down to grab the bottle. He laughs a little and his eyes come back to her face, as though he's expecting her to be laughing with him. "She didn't question that I'd hate Peach Schnapps?"

Beth is grateful for his reaction because it only makes her more annoyed. "I told her it was a private joke."

"Beth--"

"I'll go first," she says, cutting him off. Maybe he doesn't get what she intends here, but she hadn't brought him a drink. She brought him a confessional. "I never ran out on someone when they were trying to share something super important with me."

He continues to watch her, and slow horror seems to spread across his face as she snatches the shot glass off the floor and thrusts it towards him. "Drink," she demands.

The longer he looks at her, the more his discomfort shows. It's like those awful afternoon talk shows she watched when she was a kid and someone had come to confront their baby daddy on national television. He takes his time, but eventually pulls the cap off the Peach Schnapps, dumps some in the shot glass, and then drinks it. "Yep," he grumbles, making a face to show his displeasure. "Just as gross as I remember it."

She waits until he looks at her again, then says, "It's your turn."

"This isn't a good idea," he says, and she swears he almost smiles, but it doesn't fully form on his lips. "C'mon, Beth. I'm here, and I'm ready to talk. 'M sorry about--"

She interrupts him with, "Just play the game, Daryl," because if this is it, if this is where he's gonna tell her something that will break her heart, she suddenly doesn't feel prepared at all for it.

Maybe if he says it in this stupid way she's directing, it will hurt less.

But then he doesn't say anything, and her heart starts to thud so hard her chest hurts, and she wishes she'd never done this at all. It was better before, when Jimmy was just gone and she didn't care, or when Zach was gone and Daryl had cared more than she did.

If only she could go back to that.

Finally, she prompts him again with, "Your turn." Her voice is surprisingly steady, but her hands are curled into fists and she's about to explode into a million pieces. 

"I never..." he begins, his tone soft, almost too quiet for her to hear. And then he pauses again, killing her slowly. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth and the words finally come out, reluctantly. "I've never...I've never...had sex...with someone I love."

Then he lifts the bottle to his mouth and takes a long swallow, shuddering as it goes down his throat. Beth finds herself utterly speechless when he adds, "And I'm scared shitless, Beth. God's honest truth. Do with it whatever the hell you want."

There is something profoundly terrifying about Daryl Dixon when he shares his deepest, inner-most feelings. Of all the things Beth stirred herself up over all day long, somehow that had not been even on her short list of possible answers; just like day he broke down about losing the prison and his depth of anguish over her father had surprised her, had won her over.

Had made her pain and his pain the same, a shared thing that bound them together.

And now. Well. Now what they share is so much more than that.

She has loved him all this time, been _in love_ for long enough that she can't quite remember what it was not to love him, but this moment is something more. The emotion that fills her chest, that seems to fill the space between them, and the room itself, is both stifling and like being released from restraints.

She falls to her knees on the floor in front of him, saying words and grabbing at him. None of it registers, none of it has any sound, not when she can see his face and the palpable extent of his feelings for her overwhelm her.

Only she would try to talk herself into the idea that Daryl doesn't care at all when he cares _so_ much. Only she could fall for that lie when she never had before.

Only she could fail to see how what is between them means more to both of them than anything else ever has. She knows she's babbling that she loves him too, and there are tears on her face, but then his hands are there too, and somehow she's on his lap, kissing him like crazy.

And he's kissing her back, hard, and his hands clamp around her butt pulling her down on top of him, and it's way more than kissing already, but Beth is fine with it. She can't, after what he just said, think of this ending any other way. She wants to be his first in this way, because he'll be her first in every other way that counts.

 _This_ is what counts, right here, right now. Nothing that happened to her before even matters anymore.

She wants him to understand completely, so she ends their kiss to reach between them and grab the hem of her t-shirt. She pulls it off, and when Daryl's eyes go south, landing on her breasts, they respond, even through her underwear. She can feel a throbbing throughout her body, and the confines of her bra are practically offensive. She just wants him to pull it off her, put his hands there, or even his mouth. 

He licks his lips in what she can only hope is anticipation, but he says, "Beth," breathlessly, his eyes coming back to hers. "Wait--" he says, but she lays her hand over his mouth and shakes her head at him. She cannot be held responsible for what she might say or do to him if he tries to stop what's going on here.

His eyes beg for understanding as he says, "I don't wanna hurt you." His hands urgently cup her face and he looks deeply into her eyes. "Or scare you. You been through bad stuff, and I'm--I'm like fuckin' nuts here, listen, _feel_." With one hand he finds hers and mashes it flat over his heart. It's an erratic, thunderous echo of her own, and the power it gives her knowing she affects him like he does her is priceless. "I don't wanna..." he says again.

"You won't," she says. "Daryl, seriously. You've been acting like I'm made of glass this whole time. And I'm not, remember? I made it. I survived. I'm here. And I trust you. When I'm with you nothin' can hurt me. _Nothin'_. Especially not you." He would never willingly hurt her, and that's something she's always known even if his actions earlier that day had made her doubt it. Now, she can never forget it so she pushes against his hold and brings her mouth back to his. The hand on her face holds her back just enough that she can't get her lips fully on his. She lunges suddenly, surprising him. Her teeth sink into his bottom lip, and she feels the sound he makes in his throat more than hears it. Beneath her, his body is already hard, but his hips surge up under hers. "Please," she says, her voice showing the need she has, too. "I wanna be with you."

Which is the understatement of the year. She _needs_ to be with him, to have what he holds in his heart for her be the thing she associates with the vulnerability of her naked body. 

His eyes clench shut and his chest expands under her hand. She slides her fingers through his, wrapping her hand around his. She wants to be that close to him, everywhere, so she tells him in a soft whisper. "See. Like that." He opens his eyes slowly, and she continues, "I wanna be with you, like that." The impact of how intimate it feels, how intimate it _is_ , ripples through both of them.

She knows he won't try to stop it again.

She tugs her hand free and starts to undress him. His shirt has snap buttons that pull apart under her fingers quickly, and the expanse of his chest and belly come into view. He's lean, probably underweight considering, but every inch of him is hard muscle, from years on the road, and maybe even his life before that. The way his stomach trembles as her fingers run down it makes her thighs ache and she grips him tighter with her legs even though there are too many layers between them yet. It's easy enough to eliminate at least one barrier, though, and as she eases his zipper down, his breath whooshes out of him.

She has seen a grown man's (boy's?) penis before, but Daryl's is different. She doesn't have too much time to think on that because the way he throbs in her hands makes her blush, and laugh, and coo at him like he's a kitten. She manages to say his name, but if he finds her silly, she can't tell. When she hazards a glance at his face, his eyes are squeezed shut again and a muscle in his jaw is prominently showing. 

Neither of them is particularly skillful at this, but it doesn't seem to matter one bit.

She leans into him to kiss him while keeping her hands busy, running up and down the length of him and then squeezing so that his breath hitches again. When she curves her palm around the end of his shaft the skin there moves, she feels a wetness that makes her very conscious of the steady throbbing between her own legs, and his hips buck upwards again. With a whimper that sounds like her name, and the thrust of his tongue inside her mouth, she knows she's hit the right spot. 

She wants to explore more, wants to learn everything about him, but she also wants him inside her, and that urge is stronger than anything else. She climbs off him and he whimpers again, his eyes opening, and wild look of loss crosses his face. She waits for his gaze to connect with hers and then she gets rid of the rest of her clothes, first her jeans and panties, then her bra. 

The way he looks at her as she disrobes is criminal; or at least it gives her the sense of everything naughty and forbidden that she has ever been warned away from in her life. By her daddy, by sermons in church, by some sense of conscience she's not sure is reliable.

It's chased by a thrilling twinge of pleasure, or happiness, or something even greater than those two ideas.

Joy. Pure joy.

She keeps thinking she's already experienced the moment where she loves him the most, but he keeps surprising her. His eyes openly worship her body, which causes her both a sense of pride and a flood of embarrassment. They are conflicting emotions, she supposes, but then again everything she's felt all day long has been one long conflict.

But that fight is about to be over.

His gaze traces every exposed curve and plane of her body, and the tightness that has already affected her nipples and the space between her legs seems to increase even more.

She needs him to touch her more than she needs her next breath.

"Beth," he says just as he reaches out, curling his hands around her waist. They drift downward, so warm and caressing she can barely stand it. Then he brings her back down on his lap and she can't stop the smile that spreads across her face.

She's about to have Daryl Dixon. Who woulda ever thought that would happen?

She slips her hand between them to touch him again, but his is already there, and he seems to want to do it himself. She just lifts herself up slightly to make the connection easier. His voice is rough, sending shivers through her when he asks, "You sure?"

He's _right there_ , so close that she can feel the barest hint of him against the wetness waiting for him. A sound rushes up her throat, half frustrated moan, half indelicate laughter, because of course he has to ask, one more time. So she tells him the whole truth, so he'll know, nothing doubting. "This mornin', I just wanted to make out. But now? Yeah, Daryl. I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything, ever." She shifts her hips forward so that he's just barely inside her. His breath catches again, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth. "Don't be scared," she finds herself whispering; she knows she's saying it for both of them, about a lot of things.

Gratitude swells through her as she takes him into her body. The pressure is immense, but the emotion is overwhelming, filling up all the empty places, both figuratively and literally. She realizes then that she's not afraid, because she can't be. The safest place anywhere for her will always be with Daryl. _Has always been Daryl._

First, he grabs her head, kissing her for all he's worth but then he helps her move against him, his hands sliding from her bottom to her hips and back again. She can hear the helpless sounds falling from her lips, and he seems to be trying to catch them with his own, his mouth brushing hers rhythmically. Still, he manages to ask, "You okay?" and she can see he believes her when she nods her head.

It builds inside her, something more than the friction of their bodies. It's the emotion that he gave her the night she was taken; when she had said _Oh_ and now that too is the best descriptor. The physical sensation is incredible, the way his body moves inside hers, and it all gathers and explodes, radiating through both of them.

But it all goes back to the depth of feeling between them, and she can't stop herself from breathing out, "I love you."

He lifts her up and that makes something more intense swell between their bodies, causing them both to cry out a little. " _I_ love _you_ ," he gasps. Then his hands move again, to the small of her back, clenching and holding her hard against him. He makes a sound unlike anything she's ever heard--desperate and beautiful, like she's killing him and giving him life at the same time. She feels the heat of him pouring out inside her, and she realizes sex-- _making love_ \--is something so complicated and messy and mind scrambling. No wonder he'd been unsure.

If she'd really understood, all her angst would have been entirely different. How could you ever be with someone like this, and then not be? 

Her daddy had tried to tell her, back on the farm, when he was worried about her and Jimmy (and there had been nothing to worry about). He'd said this sort of thing was for life, that you shouldn't just casually do it.

She tightens her arms around Daryl's neck and hangs on with everything she's got. Her father would know, that with this man, Beth has found exactly that. In a different world, at 18, that might be terrifying, but in this world, it's consolation to so many other things.

It's the healing Pastor Gabriel promised would come in time.

In Daryl's arms she loses everything, and then finds it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long between updates. Just life and life, etc, blah, blah, blah.
> 
> There was so much I wanted to get in for this part so that the next part could have more original scenes that we haven't had from Daryl's POV already, so this chapter is pretty long. Hopefully it was worth the wait!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/Bethylhug_zps9f5fe704.gif.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to my beta who makes sure these characters don't say dumb things for me. *mwah* Also, polar bears! :D

_Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_  
There's nothing you could say  
Nothing you could do  
There's no other way when it comes to the truth 

Over the next few days, Beth becomes infinitely familiar with Daryl's body. Not just touch and smell and taste, but how he feels in the moment when he lets go; when he's completely vulnerable to her.

It always reminds her of standing outside the moonshine shack with a dead Walker for their audience. He doesn't cry during sex, but there is that same level of openness, and the way his body trembles beneath hers, or on top of hers, shuddering and then relaxing.

She'd never say it to him, because it would just embarrass him, but she realizes now just what it meant when he wept in her arms that day. They had been fully clothed, and they hadn't been looking in each other's eyes, but it was the same.

They'd been making love.

And that's the other thing; she realizes that _making love_ doesn't refer just to sex. And there's all kinds of ways to have sex, too. Sometimes he just looks at her, and it's like being in that moment with him. Sometimes it's just the brush of his fingers over hers.

Beth Greene is so in love with being in love, it's almost unbearable. And Daryl's the worst. Just, the way he fills her up and takes over everything and makes her unable to stop smiling?

It's a little bit embarrassing, especially a couple of days into it when Michonne is standing in the kitchen and she starts laughing, drawing Beth's attention to her. 

"What?" she asks. "What's funny?"

Michonne shakes her head. "Somebody's getting some, is all I'm sayin'..."

It takes Beth a moment to even get that Michonne is teasing her, but she feels her cheeks flame rapturously. She ducks her head and says nothing, and Michonne laughs again. "Daryl's got that same look about him. He just kept grinning like a fool while we were on patrol earlier. I was glad my shift ended before his, because I was about ready to slap the smile off his face."

Beth's own smile can't be repressed now even if she wanted to, not with that information. So even though it's embarrassing, she turns back to the laundry she'd been folding and mutters, "Shut up."

Michonne all but cackles then, and Beth looks up helplessly. "Stop it!" she cries, grateful it's just the two of them. Judith is taking a nap and Carol's at her book club (which is so normal and weird at the same time, that there's a book club in their ever growing circle of friends). 

"Oh, come on," Michonne grouses. "Give me a little dirt. Let me live vicariously through you!"

Before she can censor herself, Beth blurts, "You mean you and Rick haven't done it?" and though it's hard to see a flush with Michonne's skin tone, there is still a distinctive change to her expression.

"You tell me something first, then I'll tell you," Michonne says, arching a brow, recovering much faster than Beth had.

And really, Beth's been dying to say something, but her schedule has conflicted with Maggie's and any other spare time she's had, she's been at Daryl's, naked with him. So, she takes a deep breath and let's the floodgates open. "Ohmigod, Michonne. I love it. I love him. But I love _it_ , you know? Like, the feeling of everything, his hands on me, his mouth..." Her cheeks are reddening even more, but she can't stop talking. "And when he's inside me--" She claps a hand over her mouth, and shakes her head. "Oh, _god_ ," she says from behind her own palm. "He would die if he knew I was telling you..."

Michonne draws two fingers across her lips and twists them, then tosses away a pretend key. "Your secret's safe with me, I'll never tell a soul, swear it."

Beth leans forward slightly and lowers her hand. "Well, there is something--I need to ask someone, and it's all new, you know, so," as Michonne nods encouragingly, Beth lowers her voice to a whisper. "Well. The first time we did it, the other night, we...didn't use a condom, because, well, _reasons_ , but anyway, it was like, _incredible_. It felt, I don't even know how to say it. But, it was my first time, you know, really, and I think Daryl's been with some women, but not a lot, and neither of us, is you know, like, good, or whatever...but, ohmigod. I know people love sex and make a big deal about it and stuff, but yeah. I understand why now."

She feels instantly more guilty, because even talking about it arousing her, and making her imagine going over to his place when he gets off work and having her way with him, with no condoms. "It doesn't feel as good with the condom," she confides, her voice at a normal volume. "I mean, it feels _different_ , you know, like I can't feel all of him, so..." She shrugs. "It's still awesome, though. I mean, there's so many things you can do! And Daryl's like, _here, let's try this thing I heard about_ even though he's embarrassed most of the time. He's cute.

"Is that normal, though? That the condom changes everything?" Beth asks, finally getting to the actual question.

Michonne looks thoughtful as she comes over the kitchen table where Beth is folding her pile of towels. She picks one up, and starts pressing the corners together. "Condoms do change things--I'd say more for the fella than the lady on most occasions, but...there is something that could account for what you're talkin' about." She pauses and Beth realizes now why her girlfriends in high school told each other everything, it was a good way to get vital information. 

"Is he circumcised?" Michonne asks.

Beth pauses, her eyes drifting from Michonne's face as she sets a folded towel off to the side. A beat passes and everything suddenly clicks into place. The difference she noticed about Daryl that she hadn't spent much time dwelling on since their first time becomes clear. She kept meaning to ask him about his appearance, but then he'd distract her with his mouth in various places, and she just lost track of time, and thoughts, and _everything_.

Beth raises her gaze back to Michonne's. "He's not. I just realized--" She blushing again, but Michonne smiles and waves a hand like it's no big deal.

"Not all men are...and from what you just described, I'd guess that's what's going on," Michonne continues. "Because I've been with both, men who are and men who aren't, and I'd say there's a big difference in...sensation...for the woman if the man isn't. I mean, there's a pretty big difference as it is. Uncut, in my humble opinion, is much better. _Much better_. A condom would definitely dull that some, or a lot, I suppose, depending on your experience." Her smile widens a little, and Beth can't help but wonder if she's remembering someone from her past. "Since this is the only way you know it, you're spoiled, gotta say." She gives Beth a wink, and Beth giggles, because _yeah_. "But," Michonne says sharply, "you gotta use birth control, Beth. You're too young to be having a baby just yet. And you and Daryl oughta have a serious conversation before you do something like that anyway."

Beth doesn't want a baby right now, that's for sure, but she and Daryl have already had a serious talk, and she defends herself with, "We love each other. We talked about that stuff." Which isn't entirely true. She'd said they should use protection and he agreed, that had been the extent of their communication on the subject. "I'm his girl and he's my man. I mean, if we had a baby, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

Michonne smiles gently. "No, no, it wouldn't, but it would change everything. So all's I'm saying is be sure you're ready for that kinda change. Children are wonderful, they are. But they complicate matters."

Beth nods, instantly feeling less defensive just because of the tone of voice Michonne used. She stares at her friend for just a moment before she prods, "Okay, so you and Rick, yeah?"

Michonne definitely blushes, Beth is positive.

 

 

When they finally see each other the next day, Beth talks to Maggie about birth control. Her sister goes with her to the doctor to get a prescription, because in post-apocalyptic world, you can actually get in to see your doctor the same day you call in. Beth happily waits for Debbie, the nurse practitioner who had checked her out when she first got to D.C. She's not sure if Debbie remembers her at first, as it had been several months since she'd first come in. When Beth says she'd like to get on birth control, the woman smiles warmly.

"So," she says, looking at Beth's chart. "Things are going well for you?"

"Yes," Beth says, and then she shows her the piece of paper that Maggie had written down _Ortho-Tri-Cyclen Lo_ on. "Is it possible to get this kind? That's what my sister used, before the turn."

Debbie nods her head. "I'm pretty sure the Ortho-Tri-Cyclens are the ones that they never stopped making, but let me double check my list." She slides across the room on her wheeled stool and flips a folder open. "Yep, here it is. But remember, everybody's different, so just because your sister used this one just fine doesn't mean it will be perfect for you. Give it a month, but if any of the side effects are bothering you, come back in and let's try something else, okay?"

"Okay," Beth agrees.

There was a time when she would have expected the worst, but ever since her family showed up in D.C., she sees everything differently. She just knows that the pills will work, and that she'll be fine, and she hugs Debbie before she leaves her office, which she can tell startles her. She laughs awkwardly and pats Beth's back.

She and Maggie walk to the pharmacy, the same one they'd met in just three days earlier, when she and Daryl had gone to buy condoms. Maggie had smiled knowingly then, pulling Beth just a ways away from the men so she could tease Beth with, "You aren't gonna like it when I throw a fit about the condoms in your bag."

It had been a thing for years, at least before the turn, where Maggie would get over-the-top angry about something silly the way Beth had the day she found birth control pills in her sister's stuff. It had always been a joke, Maggie making her eyes go wide and saying something like, _I can't believe you put lime juice in the salsa!_ Their parents had never known what they were talking about, and that had been half the fun.

Now, as they leave the pharmacy, with the assurance that Beth can pick up her pills the next day, she loops her arm through Maggie's. "You 'member that movie, _10 Things I Hate About You_ , the one Momma thought was scandalous so she got up and left the room when we were watching it?"

Maggie laughs. "Oh, yeah. She didn't like that teacher who was writin' the romance novel."

Beth smiles, remembering her mother's horrified expression. "I 'bout wore out the CD I had of the soundtrack, and there was this one song on there called "I Know" and there was this line in that song about how her momma warned her about bad boys." Beth giggles and then clears her throat to sing, " _Stay away from bad boys, they got one thing on their minds. Their hormones are raging and they want it, all the time_ , and let me just say that it's not just a boy thing."

Maggie laughs harder, bending over slightly as they continue trying to walk up the street, back towards hers and Glenn's apartment. "I remember thinking that day you got so mad when you found the birth control in my bag, _oh, someday you'll understand, babygirl_. But I couldn't explain it to ya, you had to figure it out for yourself." She tightens her arm around Beth's. "I'm glad that you're havin' that experience. I'm glad that not everythin' got ruined, Bethy."

Beth squeezes Maggie in return. "Me, too," she says simply.

 

 

After Daryl agrees to move in with her, Carol, and Michonne, and once he thinks beyond just "living with Beth," he starts grumbling at her about being out-numbered in a house full of women. She tells him that she thinks Michonne will move out eventually because she and Rick are quietly together; that turns into quite a gossip session about Rick's old-fashioned ideas since Carl's seeing everything, and how cute Michonne is about it, and Daryl just stares at her.

"What?" Beth asks.

"Didja just call Michonne _cute_?" He gives her a smirk. "She would samurai your ass for that no doubt."

"No, she wouldn't. She and I understand each other. We both fell in love out here, in this crazy time. It's different, and special. Not everyone gets the chance, you know."

Daryl falls silent, but nods his head at her. His eyes are soft, the way they always are when she slips something in about how she loves him. She's pretty sure he's never gonna get used to it, but she still tries to say it as often as she can, both in epic ways (like while he's got her pressed against the bedroom wall and he's rolling a condom on and pushing inside her in some amazing smooth move that neither of them would _ever_ accredit to him) and casual ways like right now, when they're sitting at the kitchen table eating sandwiches.

Their roomies aren't currently home, which allowed them to discuss certain things. "I should probably tell you, just to be honest," Beth says, and his eyes come back to hers quickly, a touch of panic in them. "I talked to Russ in Housing, and made sure he never found a good place for you, on purpose. I wanted you stuck at the Dorms so that when I asked you to move in, you'd really want to, you know, just to get out of there."

She knows a part of him is always worried, even though he's never said so. Something inside of him won't quite let him believe that she's always going to want him, and she's seen it in his face many times when she innocently brings up a serious topic for discussion. 

He's in mid-bite as she shares this information with him, though, and he just shakes his head at her as he chews and swallows. "Girl, you're nuts, y'know that?"

It's almost funny how he can't see that her insecurities are similar to his, but she just smiles, ducks her head, and let's him reassure her. "I would fucking pay to live here. _With you_. Ya nut."

As they're washing their dishes, he slides his body in behind hers, rubbing himself not-so-subtly against her ass. He's whispering kisses down the back of her neck, and Beth can feel the familiar heat spreading everywhere. "You know," she says, her voice high and breathless. "We can start having sex without condoms now. My pills are in full effect." She's pretty sure they'd both been counting down on that, but they'd both pretended not to care that much.

He chuckles and hums a happy, anticipatory sound, the vibration skipping down her spine as she rinses her hands under the warm water. He reaches around her to shut the faucet off, and she purposely arches her backside more firmly into his hips. His breath hitches, but he says, "And I got a whole passel a condoms leftover, too. What'm I gonna do with 'em?"

His fingers undo the buttons of her blouse, push the lapels open, and then strip the cups of her bra clean off her breasts in a rapid motion that leaves her aroused nipples nestled in the palms of his hands. He squeezes her flesh and groans against her neck when she moans, "What's a passel?"

He turns her around quickly, mutters something about giving her an English lesson _later_ , and then whisks her down the hall to the bedroom.

Beth's memory of the naked feel of him was not something she had exaggerated. She screams when she comes, because they are better at this now than they were the first time, and it feels like she's flying into a million pieces. A long while passes before Daryl tells her, his voice rough, that they might need to get their _own_ place if she's gonna be that noisy. Then he defines passel for her, and proceeds to give her a _passel_ of orgasms, since neither Carol nor Michonne return home any time soon.

 

 

Television is a part of the new world order in D.C., though not the way it had been before. There were channels with reruns, but the only new shows were cheap, public broadcast things that reminded Beth of plays she'd seen in her high school.

All the same, they watched TV, from time to time. And nobody missed the News, because any word about the growth of other communities outside their own gave them hope. 

Periodically, they heard trickle-downs from Abraham through Rick about Eugene's work, and that's when Beth learned in full just why the group had come to Washington to begin with. And then, one day, on Breaking News, there it was: A cure had been successfully created. The first to take it had been some older people, all volunteers according to the journalist, who were expected to die within one to six months post-injection from natural causes.

Daryl and the others had been in Washington for almost five months, which meant Beth had been there almost a year. And the first person who died, an 82-year old man named Wallace Trenton, had not reanimated. Under the careful watch of doctors and scientists, he had gone the way of his Maker, and stayed that way.

Beth and Carol sat on their sofa, holding hands and crying as the journalist thanked Eugene and two doctors who had agreed to interviews for being with her. They answered questions for more than an hour, and Daryl came bursting in the door from work during that time. He had obviously run all the way there, and he gasped, "Didja hear...?" but fell silent when he saw that they were already watching the broadcast. 

Sinking down on the sofa on the other side of Beth, they all watched without speaking as the interview went on.

"So, what is the next move from here, Dr. Porter?"

Eugene cocked an eyebrow, and then turned his eyes right to the camera. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "We get it reproduced as quickly as possible, and then we get it out to everyone. First Washington, and then every person on the other side of our walls that we can find."

"How will that be done?" 

"Well, I think we're gonna have to leave the safety of our little world here, or at least some people will. I assume there will be a call to arms. Not that I'll be going of course, because they'll need me here to oversee the work. But ours is a rescue mission. It always has been."

A few minutes later, Carol turns the television off when the program ends. She glances at Beth and Daryl, neither of whom have spoken yet. Beth feels overwhelmed by the news, overjoyed to the point of speechlessness, and she can't help but think of her father and his hope for a cure. Of course, according to what Eugene had shared, it only corrects the mutation in people who haven't turned yet, but they planned to keep working, to see if they could make something that could fix Walkers. He hadn't been as hopeful about that, understandably.

It was still a miracle that Beth had never considered could really happen.

Finally, she finds her voice. "This is incredible," she whispers.

Daryl clears his throat. "Sure is," he adds.

But it's Carol who says, "Who do you think they're gonna send out?"

Beth looks at Carol, not sure why she sounds so ominous. 

"It's all volunteer," Daryl says. "They been asking for volunteers going on a week now."

"Well, that's good," Beth says. "I mean, they shouldn't make anyone go who doesn't want to. It's gonna be a dangerous mission. A lot of the people here couldn't make it out there, you know, since they never even got close to Walkers."

"Right," Carol says, nodding her head. Her eyes meet Beth's, but then move past her to Daryl.

That's when she feels it, the stillness in him. The quiet intensity. Beth turns her head to look at her boyfriend, and she feels tears burn her eyes all over again.

She doesn't feel surprised, not really. It isn't shocking to her, not when she considers who Daryl is. But anger lights her up anyway because she knows he's already made his decision, and he hadn't even talked to her about it.

His eyes don't quite meet hers, but he lifts his chin just slightly. "When y'all leaving?" she asks. She can't help how her voice is choked with tears. 

Daryl shrugs. "They don't know for sure yet. They want us all vaccinated first, then..." 

Beth reaches up, grabbing his jaw with her fingers, forcing him to look at her. "As soon as possible, though, right?"

He nods. "Yeah. I s'pect so."

Beth drops her hand back to her lap, just watching him for what feels like the longest minute of her life.

She doesn't know what to say, so she just gets up and walks out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> This gif of Norman clapping is MY reaction to this chapter. This was the whole reason I wanted to keep writing this universe, for what happens here. I hope I'm not the only one who likes it! :D

_Before the doors close  
And it comes to an end  
With you by my side I will fight and defend_

When Beth walks into the kitchen, her intent is to go to the garage, get on her bike, and get as far away from Daryl Dixon as possible.

Instead, she ends up in the walk-in pantry, standing next to the shelf of peanut butter and graham crackers. She shoves her fingers against her lips to stifle the sobs welling up in her throat. Just a few days earlier, she had been here, in the pantry looking for something, what now she can't even remember, and Daryl had found her.

As tended to happen most times they were alone for any length of time, a smile and a hello led to kissing. And kissing led to groping, and groping led to them having sex, right there in the pantry. Carol and Michonne didn't know about it, and Beth sure as hell would never tell them, but it had been one of their hottest times. Even now, as mad as she is, and with tears burning her eyes, she can feel her face heat up at the memory.

When he appears in the doorway a moment later, she barely turns her head to acknowledge him. It suddenly hits her, though, and she can't help but ask, "The other day, in here, when it was so--when _you_ were so--" Because that's what it had been, this desperation pouring out of him, him muttering against her throat how much he needed her, wanted her, _right here, right now;_ he'd turned her so that her back was against his chest, shoved her jeans and underwear out of his way, and opened his own just enough to free himself. Then he'd planted himself on the step-ladder they kept in there, and pulled her down on top of him. The angle had been totally weird, and at first Beth had been a little shocked by the rough feeling of it all, but he put his hand in the middle of her back and pushed her forward just so. Her own hands had automatically risen to grip the built-in shelf in front of her and bracing herself against it, she had moved with the rhythm he set until they were both panting and crying out in ecstasy.

There had been something primal about the way his hands slid under her shirt to cup her breasts after he was already inside her. It all happened so fast, and with her pants caught on her boots at her ankles her movement had been restricted. He felt bigger than normal because she couldn’t spread her legs very wide, and the friction of his jeans beneath the bare skin of her legs had heightened the experience for her. After so many months, when she had grown so used to being intimate with him, it was suddenly completely new again. In reality, it had been a mess, the whole thing. How they hadn't ended up in a heap on the floor, she had no idea, but her orgasm had been long and strong, unlike any she'd had before. Daryl had been wild, his hands across her body fast and rough and all encompassing, his reverential care completely gone.

It hadn't been scary, but incredibly thrilling.

Now, it just feels devastating.

He barely nods his head, but it's enough for her come out swinging. She punches his chest and barely restrains herself from slapping his face, but at the last moment, the feeling of his scars under her hands is vivid. It prevents her from letting her anger take over completely, especially when he does nothing to defend himself other than to flinch away from her just a bit.

She pushes past him, making it to the garage this time. He follows her, calling her name, but she gets on her bike and she peddles with all her might. He could probably chase her and catch her, but he doesn't.

Beth tells herself that she's really grateful.

 

 

There are tons of people to go talk to; she could vent to Maggie or Rick or any of them. She could get them to talk to Daryl, to convince him not to go.

In the end, she goes to Pastor Gabriel's house and practically bawls her head off. It's the way she never could let go during all the time she counseled with him before Daryl came to Washington; there is no longer a barrier between her mind and her heart. Gabriel simply listens and hugs her the way her own father would have. Then they pray together, but she goes home without any solid answers.

Carol's sad eyes meet hers as she comes back in the house. "He left, too," she says softly. "I don't know where he went."

Emotionally exhausted, Beth just shakes her head. "I'm gonna take a shower." She walks towards the hallway.

"Beth?"

"Carol, don't," she says, stopping to look back.

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say," Carol says, her voice full of hurt.

"You're gonna tell me what a good man he is, and that's why he's doing this, but I already know _that_."

Carol folds her arms over her chest. She glances at the kitchen floor, shaking her head. "I was _not_ gonna say that." Her eyes slowly come back to Beth's, and Beth feels more tears well up. She thought she was empty of them, honestly. "But I did want to say that he's not thinking of it like you are, like what he's doing to you--he's just thinkin' of all the people out there--"

"Carol! He most definitely _was_ thinking of it like I'm thinking of it. He would have told me straight up to start with if he wasn't afraid of how I was gonna react. Daryl might be a good person, but he's no saint, and he sure as hell isn't stupid. And I'm thinking about those people out there, too! I was one of those people, we all were! That's not what the problem is, the problem is, he didn't tell me _first_."

Beth continues down the hall for the bathroom, but then turns around suddenly and charges back towards the kitchen, pointing an accusing finger at Carol. "And you should have told him to talk to me." Carol's eyes widen in shock, but she remains silent by pressing her lips into a tight line. "I know y'all are friends, and you've done your best to take care of all us through so much, but he's _my_ boyfriend. It's _our_ relationship."

Beth spins around and finally makes it to the bathroom, angrily stripping off her clothes once she's there. She loves Carol, but the realization that her friend and roommate had known what was going on had become painfully obvious upon reflection. Daryl's guilt and Carol knowledge had squeezed the breath from her lungs on the sofa of their living room, and in Gabriel's house, as she knelt with him next to his couch to pray, the understanding that had passed between them over her head became clear.

In some ways they were still on the farm, or at the prison, and everybody was making decisions and cooking up plans without telling Beth anything, because she was a kid, and she just had to go along with whatever the adults had concluded.

"Fuck _that_ ," she mutters to her own reflection in the mirror.

She wrenches the faucet on in the shower, and lets it run for a minute, until the water's hot. Climbing in under the spray, she closes her eyes. The stream washes her tears away.

 

 

She wakes up in the middle of the night when Daryl slides into the bed next to her, his weight tipping her body towards his naturally. She's lying on her side, but he eliminates the space between them anyway, not put off by her facing away from his pillow. His hand curves around her hip, skimming down slightly over her belly. "Beth?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She puts her hand over his, mostly to let him know she's conscious. It's totally silent in their house, but she knows Michonne's home now as well because she'd heard her come in before she laid down. She hadn't expected to sleep, but she supposes all the crying wore her out.

Daryl noses her hair out of his way, pressing a kiss behind her ear. She shivers, an automatic response to the brush of his beard at that sensitive place, but then his voice while almost soundless seems penetrating in the dark of their bedroom. "I'm sorry." It's clear and articulate, not a mumble or a murmur.

She knows it's not a retraction; it's not like he'll change his mind, and she knows she'll probably still have to explain to him just what he needs to be sorry about, but something about the sincerity in his voice melts her anger away. Her fingers involuntarily clench around his, and he buries his face in her shoulder. She feels one sort of tension drain out of him and another take its place.

He tugs his hand free of hers, slipping his fingers under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. He cups it between her legs, the middle digit bending just right so that she has to bite her lip to hold on to the sound that blossoms in her throat. "I wanna…" he breathes. "Baby, just lemme--" She arches back into him as his thumb strums upward, playing her just the way he's learned to perfection over the last several months. "--make you feel good."

She wants to rage at him that sex won't fix anything, that this is all wrong, from every moment earlier in the day to this one right here, but she’s powerless to stop him. It's not like the loss of power she endured at the hands of her attackers, it's the knowledge that no matter what, she will love Daryl Dixon until her dying day. Whether he's still with her or not. Whether he chooses to leave her or not. Even when he makes her mad, he makes her love him more, somehow.

He might be a man who makes her cry, but they aren't tears of fear or shame or willful pain.

Life is full of hard choices; it's always been that way, but never more so than now.

His fingers continue to stroke, and he delves two of them deeply inside her. She feels the heat pouring out of her, the slickness allowing his fingers to move more fluidly until he adds a third, stretching her with pleasure-pain. She reaches up, grabbing at the back of his head. Her nails dig into him as his lips suck at her earlobe and down the column of her throat. When his teeth sink into the tendon in her neck, her whole body convulses with a paroxysm of feeling. In the moment of white noise and blindness and the world spinning off its axis, she knows exactly what she wants to do.

She clenches around him, his name a strangled breath on the thick air between them. As her body calms, he pulls his fingers out, but leaves his hand resting over her as though guarding the treasure trove. "I love you, more than anything in this world, Beth Greene. More'n _anything_. But I gotta go. You know I do."

Beth's heart is still racing, but she's almost certain it has nothing to do with her orgasm. She pulls him closer, the hand in his hair making it possible for her to turn her head and bring his ear into the vicinity of her mouth.

"I do know," she says softly, not bothering to whisper. If their housemates are listening, at this point, she doesn't give a flying fuck. "So, I'm going with you."

 

 

Daryl goes completely still. She feels his body stiffen behind hers, and the hard ridge pressing against her bottom instantly recedes.

Maniacal laughter threatens, but she holds on to her hysteria as he finally rolls away from her, lying flat on his back in the bed. She scoots herself upward until she can reach the bedside lamp to flick it on.

She looks over her shoulder to see him blinking from the onslaught, a hand resting against his forehead. It’s his _deep thinking_ pose, one she’s seen many times.

She knows what he wants to say, but she also knows he _can’t_ say it. Not after everything that’s happened. He takes a deep breath as she sits up all the way and leans back against the wall at the head of the bed.

When he finally speaks, it’s with resignation. “Maggie’ll fuckin’ murder me for takin’ you with,” he says.

“Maggie’ll get over it,” Beth replies.

“Like you're gettin’ over it?” he snorts, turning his head slightly to look at her. He moves his hand off his face, shoves it under the pillow, and folds it up so that it holds his head up a little higher.

“You think this is retaliation?” she asks. It takes all of her self-control not to reach over and pinch him.

“The fuck, Beth? I hurt you, so you’ll hurt me, right? I can at least call a spade a spade.”

Beth jumps out of the bed and his eyes widen in alarm as her voice echoes through the house. With her hands on her hips, she assumes the pose of angry women everywhere. “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, you stupid sonofabitch! I’m trying to make sure you survive! And if I’m out there with you, I know you’ll be extra careful, but I’ll also have your back. We’ve had this fight before, but let me remind you, I survived, too! It’s not just dumb luck that I made it here! I was the one who had no survival skills, but somehow made it out of the prison with you. I was the one who believed there was good in a world gone to hell, and _I_ was the one who got stolen by some hillbilly lowlifes that raped me! And I’m your _woman_ , Daryl Dixon. What do you expect me to do, just sit at home and hope you make it back? When I know that nobody will protect you better than me, because nobody loves you more than I do! Lord have mercy, because I might just fucking shoot you myself before you can go out there and get eaten by Walkers!”

She runs out of breath before she runs out of words, so she takes a really undignified gulp of air at the end of her monologue, gasping and choking as she presses a hand to her chest. Daryl just stares at her, and she swears she can see the corners of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile. “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she says on a low breath, jabbing a finger at him.

In the silence following that command, there is a loud pounding on the south wall of their bedroom, the one that they share with Michonne. “It’s four o’clock in the morning, y’all,” says a muffled voice.

Daryl does laugh then, though it’s quiet and short.

He sits up, and pats the bed beside him. “C’mere,” he murmurs.

Hesitantly, Beth gets back on the bed and eases herself into the space next to him. He wraps an arm around her, and his lips nestle in her hair as she lets her head dip into the curve of his shoulder. “You’re right. I’d rather have you with me. I know you’ll have my back. But I don’t wanna anything happenin’ to ya, like before. So, we never separate, okay? In each other’s sight, every step of the way. Right?”

A sense of calm falls over her, an invisible blanket of peace. It’s crazy to willingly go back into the fray, but no one ever said she and Daryl weren’t crazy. Nothing about them has ever made sense, so there’s no point starting now.

She winds her arms around his torso, hugging him tight. “Right,” she agrees. Then, she admits the truth. “Maggie’s gonna try to kill both of us.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” Daryl mutters.

 

 

A couple days later, they have to face the music because Glenn and Maggie invite them over for dinner. This isn't necessarily an odd occurrence, but Beth can't help the anxiety that fills her as she and Daryl mount the stairs that lead to her sister's second floor apartment. They have to tell them now, because the first vaccinations will be starting early the following week, and those who have volunteered for the mission will get inoculated before everyone else.

Beth didn't expect anyone else to go from their group, at least not as some sort of thing they owed the outside world, or to go as back-up for her and Daryl. Rick wouldn't go for obvious reasons, and no one under 18 was allowed to go, so even if Carl wanted to, he'd be denied.

Carol had apologized to Beth for her interference, though Beth couldn't really tell if Carol was sorry about it, or just sorry for hurting Beth. It really didn't matter, because she had decided not to go either. Michonne had been tempted, Beth could tell, and later Daryl confirmed that suspicion by saying, "I think she'd go if Rick could go with her, like we're doin', but she feels a responsibility to the kids now, too. I told her she should stay."

"So did I," Beth said, and they shared a tentative smile now that they seemed to be on the same page about things again.

Tyreese had signed up, along with Sasha and Bob. They knew Daryl and Beth planned to go, but they had agreed not to say anything to Maggie and Glenn until after Beth let them know she had first spoken to her sister.

As they enter Maggie's apartment, there is a tension in the house that Beth realizes isn't stemming from her, and it's not negative. There is a happy thrum in the rhythm between Glenn and Maggie, a height of happiness none of them have dared to enjoy in such a long time that for a while, Beth actually forgets that she has bad news to give.

They eat dinner, and polish off a bottle of wine. Right towards the end of the meal, as Beth notices that the wine glass in front of Maggie has stayed suspiciously full, her sister blurts out, "Glenn and I are getting married!"

Beth looks at Maggie, tilting her head in confusion because Maggie has referred to Glenn as her husband for so long, it seems really strange that she'd say that. Maggie quickly clarifies, "I mean, for real. Gabriel said he'd officiate, and we went down and applied for a marriage license."

Maggie's smile is so big, Beth actually thinks for a moment that she might hurt herself. Glenn pipes up, "We want you two to stand up with us. But it's gonna be a real wedding, in a church, and everything, as soon as possible."

Beth can't figure out what the rush is about considering how long they've been married without an official piece of paper, but she doesn't want to rob them of their obvious joy either. Daryl slides his hand under the table and squeezes her leg. "We'd be honored," he says. "When ya doin' it?"

"Within the next couple of weeks," Maggie says. She and Glenn exchange looks, and both keep smiling like this is all new and they just got together or something. Beth sees Glenn nod his head almost imperceptibly at Maggie and then Maggie's eyes come back to Beth's face. "We're having a baby!" she exclaims. "I'll start showing pretty soon, if I'm anything like my momma, so we just wanted to make it official-official before then."

Beth gets up and goes around the table to hug her sister. She sits across Maggie's lap like she did when they were younger, and she holds on to her so tight. The tears she'd shed leading up to her choice to go with Daryl had ended the moment they agreed about what they were doing. She had been glad about her choice, and only slightly worried that Maggie would rant and rave until she calmed down and saw reason.

But now, at the idea of a baby, a new little person in their family to carry on all that had come to matter to them in this new and difficult world, the tears return. It's a combination of optimistic happiness and uncompromising reality. The odds of her and Daryl dying were probably high, and while she was willing to take those odds no matter what her sister thought about it, the idea of a niece or nephew that she would never know is an unexpected heartache.

In the end, she just whispers, "Congratulations," into Maggie's neck.

They'll have to tell them, but tonight isn't the night they'll do it. Thankfully she doesn't have to explain that to Daryl, who follows her lead by remaining quiet.

As they walk home a couple hours later, he just holds her hand tightly. She cries the whole time, and when she says, "We'll tell them after the wedding," he says, "Let's hope we don't get called out before then."

Beth says a prayer right then for the very same favor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Olafmelting_zps65b98e6c.gif.html)
> 
> I don't think I ever credited the song "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne as the source of my opening quotes, so better late than never!

_Hear me when I say, when I say I believe  
Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny  
Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly_

It doesn't take Maggie long to get all the details worked out; this is the joy of life now as they know it: a wedding can be planned with so little fanfare. It becomes the biggest celebration that any of them have had the enjoyment of in so long that even strangers want to come.

In the end, over 100 people are invited. Between Beth's friends in Housing & Registration (who all want to come as they remember Beth and Maggie's eventful reunion with great fondness), Maggie's friends on the Task Force, and all the people Glenn knows through his handyman tasks, which is quite a lot, everyone wants to come. Carol laughs a little and jokes that Glenn and Maggie are like Prince Charles and Princess Di; if they televised their wedding everyone would tune in.

It's not quite that big, but it's pretty damn exciting. Beth loses herself in _Maid of Honor_ duties, and even though they jam everything into about 12 days, with so many people pulling together to help make the event happen, it's easy to forget that other thing looming in their near-distant future.

Daryl comes home two days before the special occasion and asks, "Can you come up to the Medical Wing during your lunch hour tomorrow? They're doing the shots then, for everyone on the volunteer list."

The reality of it hits her hard, but she manages to control her reaction. She nods at Daryl, and goes on tying ribbons around little bags of birdseed. Carol is helping with the task, and she just lowers her head, never saying a word.

Later that evening, as she's unhooking her bra and getting a nightshirt out of her bureau, Daryl's warm hand squeezes her bare shoulder. "You don't have to go, y'know."

The rough drag of his fingers over her smooth skin makes goosebumps rise up on her body. "Don't," she says, shaking her head just once.

He draws closer to her, and when she doesn't move away, he wraps his arms around her. They haven't made love since the morning she decided she was going with him on the mission. Mostly it's because they've been so busy with wedding plans, and their schedules have been conflicting, but some of it was Daryl backing off, she knows. She hadn't initiated anything, not to punish him, but just as self-preservation. Opening herself up sexually put her in an emotionally vulnerable place, and right now, there was so much going on, her feelings were extra crazy. 

It had been sweet, though, because without the physical uniting of their bodies, they had started talking more. He'd asked her about childhood dreams, like what she wanted to be when she grew up. It reminded Beth of things she hadn't thought of in years, ideas that didn't seem just childish, but so far away from anything practical or possible that they were almost made up fantasies. Still she had told him the truth. "I wanted to be a singer," she said, lying with her head on his shoulder.

"You're a good singer," he murmured, his hand playing in her hair. "If that's what you want, you should do it."

"You don't even like my singin'," she said, lifting her head to look at him. "You only put up with it because there wasn't anythin' else to listen to." It's not true, and she knows it, but she liked teasing him about things from before. When it was only them, and they couldn't dream of where they would be a year down the road. 

"That's not true, and you know it," he said with a frown, echoing her own thoughts.

She tipped her head back, fitting herself into his palm. "You were so mad that day. You thought it was stupid when I sang, you made that perfectly clear."

He shook his head, snorting. "If you remember that, then you remember everything else, too, doncha? I was afraid, and angry, and mean, and stupid. But mostly stupid." Looking into her eyes, his finger traced over the curve of her cheek. "I'm stupid a lot when it comes to you." 

The weight in his stare had made her heart squeeze. He pressed his lips to hers, and asked her to turn off the light. They had huddled together under the covers, but they'd only slept.

It wasn't that her desire for him was gone; if anything, when she thought about leaving Washington, and being on the road in situations that would hardly leave time for sex or anything like that, she felt overwhelmed with need. To connect with him, to wring pleasure out of every moment, to not think about Glenn and Maggie swearing before God and everyone to love only each other for the rest of their lives.

(What was the point of getting married until death do you part when they were probably going to go out there and die? Even Beth can't talk herself into something different, and Daryl would never try.)

So they've grown closer in some ways, but she knows the things weighing on them created a divide neither could have guessed at. And neither of them really know what to do about it.

With his arms around her now, though, Daryl seems to be trying something. Beth is docile enough to let it happen, whatever it might be. 

He drops his chin down on to her shoulder, and the hair on his face tickles at her clavicle. "I love you," he whispers.

Beth drops her sleep shirt to the floor and puts her hands on his arms. "I love you, too," she replies, her own voice soft.

Turning his head slightly, he nuzzles her neck. "I wanna be with you," he murmurs, which has always been his sweet way of asking for sex when he wasn't sure if she was up for it. It was a callback to their first time, and the way she had expressed her own need for him, and it never failed to put her right there in that headspace with him.

That was the thing about Daryl; she didn't _want_ him nearly as much as she _needed_ him. The need had started when she was far from him, and now that he was there, so close, every day that she could take him for granted if she wanted, she had been determined never to do so.

If they didn't have many days left together, she ought to get every last drop of love and lust and skin-on-skin that she could out of him. 

That way if she ended up blessed with more than she anticipated, she would be doing just what he'd always done with her. Treasuring everything, believing himself unworthy of it anyway, and simply marveling that anything so wonderful could have ever happened in the first place. Whether its duration was six months or 60 years, every minute was packed with the live action of living it.

She turns in his arms to face him, and he moves back just half a step, looking uncertain. She lifts her hands to cup his jaw, pulling his lips delicately to hers before sliding her fingers around his head and into his hair. He'd never stopped wearing it a little long, even though now he could get it cut as often as he liked. 

He once told her it was because he wanted her to have something to grab on to.

He'd also been wearing a smirk and looking up at her from between her legs when he mentioned it, but that was the point. Everything about Daryl was for her; and even this mission continued that thread. How could they be happy here, having all that they had when there were those out there still in need?

Beth's problem wasn't that she didn't understand Daryl or his motivations; it had always been that she understood him too well, even when he didn't want her to.

Against his mouth, she says, "I wanna be with you...forever," and he picks her up and takes her to the bed without further ado.

She stretches out on her back as he tugs her pants and underwear down her legs. As soon as she's naked, his mouth lands on hers with little finesse, but with much enthusiasm. Their teeth crash together and Daryl mutters an apology against her chin, but she just grabs his ears and redirects his head until they mesh together like they have many times before. A whimper escapes his throat as she slides her hands up under the inside of his shirt only to quickly change course and tuck down into the waistband of his jeans. 

He's already hard against her, but fully clothed, and she thinks maybe he's been missing her an awful lot. Still, when she brings her hands around front to open his jeans, he knocks them away. Without a word, his lips leave a trail from her mouth to all his favorite destination spots down her body until he spreads her thighs, slides his hands under her ass, and lifts her upward. His tongue drags down so that she jumps and moans even though she knew what he was going to do. He moves with sudden speed, dragging them both to the edge of the bed. He drops over the side, kneeling in front of her and then drapes one leg over his shoulder, while pushing the other one up so that her foot is flat on the bed. His hand surrounds her ankle, making sure she won't move, but it opens her up just right so that as his tongue goes back for a second taste, she's reaching for that hair that he so thoughtfully left for her to hang on to.

"D-daryl," she breathes, and he hums against her. Her whole body feels tight, and her nipples are hard, beaded up against the warm night air of their bedroom. 

He says, with his tongue still dancing provocatively between her legs, "Tell me what y'want," and the words that instantly arrive behind her lips are nothing she can say.

_You. Forever. Just us, nothing else. I don't need anything more._

"Please," is all that comes out at first, and he sucks her clitoris up against his teeth so that it becomes a much longer word than one syllable.

"I want you," he says when she doesn't elaborate beyond that, "screamin' my name, beggin' for me to finish you off."

Beth's first thought is that that's not really feasible when their housemates are in the next room, but before that can even fully sink in, she realizes what she wants the most is not what he wants to give her. Her hands clench in his hair, pulling hard so that he lifts his head with the upward movement of her fingers. 

Their eyes meet across the expanse of her flushed torso and she says, "I don't wanna come, unless you're inside me."

Daryl's mouth is shiny, and his beard's a bit wet from both his efforts and her natural reaction to him, but he licks his lips while nodding his head. He slowly gets to his feet, the hand around her ankle loosening. Beth leans up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. His eyes watch her carefully as she pulls the garment open; he shrugs his shoulders to get it to fall from his body. She inclines her head some, bringing her lips to his abdomen. It quivers under her kisses, and she lowers her hands to his button and zipper. As she pulls those items open then tugs his pants down his hips, she lets her mouth drift further south, to the rigid flesh that is revealed. 

He whimpers again, his hands moving to cradle the base of her skull as she kisses him gently. She takes a swipe with her tongue, just to catch the glistening drops of pre-cum she can see already. He groans then, full-throated, and his fingers tighten against her head. "Baby..." he moans. "No, no, no," he whispers, and she knows what he means.

If she really wants him to come inside her, she needs to get him there sooner rather than later. Their eyes meet and she lets her legs slide down around his, using her feet to help him completely out of his pants. Then she stands up, causing him to scoot back a little. She reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring his mouth back to hers. They kiss ferociously, their tongues stroking, their mouths sucking at each other lips. Beth feels like her whole body is vibrating as she presses herself against him, and she can feel the beat of his heart against her mid-section, his cock throbbing between them.

They pull apart and she whispers, "Me, on top." Daryl moves past her to sit down on the edge of the bed, and she climbs on his lap, sinking down on him in a practiced motion. They have made love many ways, but this, too, is a callback to that first time, and as she lowers herself down on him, his hands slide across her body to her hips. 

Their eyes remain open and focused on each other as they move together, but it builds slowly. The connection between them is perhaps stronger than it's ever been, but as the tension gets stronger and stronger the release she needs and wants is just beyond her actual reach. Daryl doesn't do anything to help her along, though, seeming content to let it stretch out indefinitely.

Tomorrow Maggie and Glenn will get married, and the day after that, they along with Sasha, Bob, and Tyreese with march out of the city gates towards who knows what.

Even if this night feels like it will last forever, it's still not enough.

Sweat drips down her spinal column, and she ends up closing her eyes, breaking their gazes apart. She drops her head back on her neck, and a wail erupts from behind her clenched teeth. She digs her nails into his shoulders, slamming herself down on him. " _Please_ ," she gasps again. When nothing changes, not his pace, not the placement of his hands, nothing, her eyes open again. 

When their gazes meet this time, something different flares between them. Daryl surges up underneath, but it dislodges her from his lap, and ultimately from his cock. Her exhale is one of panic and uncertainty when his hand grasps her shoulder and switches their positions; he bends her over the edge of the bed, moves in behind her, and buries himself inside her again, but it feels instantly better, _more_ , than it was just moments before. 

Beth's hands knot in the bedclothes in front of her and as he drives himself into her, the motion of his body over hers takes her somewhere she's never been before. She arches into him, pushing herself up, and his hands slide beneath her, catching her aroused nipples between his fingers. He pinches at them while thrusting into her and the flaming, incinerating heat rushes up her belly and blazes out through her thighs. Her body clenches; it feels like everything folds in on itself and Daryl's cry of surprise is beautiful and heart-melting. She feels him come with her, riding it out in a pulsating wave as her orgasm goes on and on, the weight of him on top of her a protection and a promise against so many things.

It's only as she's catching her breath that her eyes open and she sees their hands, joined, not five inches from her face. His fingers are interlocked with hers, and the width of his palm engulfing her own seems symbolic of everything between them.

His head rests against the top of her back, his nose pressed in the sweaty path down the crevice of her spine. "Never, in all m'life," he mutters, "have I been so happy as I've been with you."

Beth blinks back tears, swallowing hard as she can't tear her eyes away from their hands. "Me, either," she says softly.

Daryl turns his head, resting his cheek against her skin. "I don't mean since the Turn. I mean, _ever_ , in my life. You've made me happier than _ever_ before. You should know that."

She can feel dampness on her skin, but she doesn't know if it's tears from his eyes, or just her own sweat, or maybe a combination of the two. "I _know_ ," she says with emphasis. "Me, either, Daryl. I never knew anyone or anything could be as good or as wonderful as this." 

_How could anyone dream of something she didn't know existed?_

She wants to ask him, and maybe someday she will. But tonight, as he slips from inside her, but stays laying possessively over her, she just lets it be.

If this is the dream, she hopes she never wakes. If this is real, she hopes she never sleeps. She thinks that's from some movie she saw once, but it doesn't matter. They are her thoughts now, she owns them.

Minutes, or maybe hours later, Daryl eases himself up, and turns her over so she's facing him. Then he repositions her legs and goes down on her until she screams his name.

(If their housemates mind, they never hear about it.)

(After the first orgasm, the others come easier, faster. Beth weeps, and returns every caress, and puts everything she has ever felt for him into all of her movements, hands, mouth, full-body embraces. When they finally sleep, it's because they can't move anymore.)

 

 

The next day, she's sitting in the waiting area of the Medical Wing, alone. She expected when Daryl told her to come during her lunch break, that there would be many people there, but she's alone for a good ten minutes after she's checked in. The receptionist told her it would be a little while before the doctor could see her because something had come up suddenly.

Her inner debate goes back and forth the longer she sits there. She knows she would get the Cure regardless, but she is getting it sooner than most because she's agreed to go on this mission. It turns out, though, and this was something else the receptionist said, that they wanted to do some bloodwork, and just get the basic physical things documented about her that they would any soldier before they went out on assignment.

Beth doesn't know why it didn't occur to her sooner, or why it hadn't been mentioned, but surely everyone else who was going had had this same process, Daryl included.

The door opens and a woman walks in, shaking Beth out of her thoughts. She isn't going to back out, not now, even if terror seems to be filling her up. Maybe when she sees the doctor, she could ask for a sedative. People did that, right? Or maybe there would just be a lot of booze at Glenn and Maggie's wedding that she could consume. Either way, she was gonna need something to work up her courage to tell her sister what was going on.

(She hadn't missed the irony of Daryl not telling her he'd volunteered for the mission right away with her own reticence in telling Maggie what she was going to do.)

As the woman who just walked in speaks to the receptionist, Beth realizes she looks familiar. When the dark-haired girl sits down, Beth says, "Rosilita, right?"

"Just Rosita," she corrects. "You're Beth? Dixon's girl?" When Beth nods, Rosita smiles. "I remember you, from our first day. We never really got to hang out or anything, but I've heard stuff about you."

"Do you work with Daryl?" Beth asks.

Rosita shakes her head. "No, I'm in the Military. Abraham Ford, he's my guy, and we were with them all at Terminus."

"No, I know," Beth says. "From what little Daryl's told me about that time, I do know all the people who were there with him. And he told me you're going with us on this mission."

Rosita's expression grows somber as she affirms what Beth said. "Yeah. Unfortunately there aren't many of us, less than 50, who are going. When Dixon told Abe you were coming, he was a bit skeptical, but I took up for ya. I figured anyone with Dixon's gotta have metaphorical balls, you know?"

Beth's cheeks flame with embarrassment, but at the same time a surge of affection for this stranger takes hold of her. "Well, lets hope so, right?" she says with a shrug. "Were you a soldier before the Turn?"

Rosita smiles again. "Nope. I was just a normal girl, in college, y'know studying and getting drunk on the weekends, and then _boom!_ Life changed forever. None of my family made it, but then Abe found me, and took care of me. Taught me how to be a soldier. When we got here, and there were options, it seemed simple really. I wanted to be with him, doing whatever he was doing."

The door to the inner office opens then, and a nurse calls Beth's name. She stands up and moves over to take Rosita's hand. "I think we're gonna be good friends, Rosita."

Rosita squeezes her fingers tightly. "I hope so."

Beth gets weighed, measured, and stuck with a few needles. She pees in a cup and has to answer questions about Post Traumatic Stress, to which she says, "You really care if I'm crazy? Don't we all need to be a little crazy to be going to do this? And if there weren't some of us who _were_ crazy, what the hell would happen, huh?"

The doctor scribbles something down on his clipboard and leaves her alone in the room while he looks at her bloodwork.

When Beth sees Daryl later that day, she tells him about meeting Rosita.

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Oh, yeah, good ol' Ro. She'll kick anyone's ass that needs it. You're gonna like her a lot."

 

 

Maggie takes a deep breath and then hugs Beth for like the fifth time in as many minutes. "I don't know why I'm so nervous," she says. "It's only Glenn, right?"

Beth laughs. "Glenn and a hundred of your closest friends." She pushes Maggie back and tips her chin upward. "Just don't puke all over Pastor Gabriel. I don't know how he'd feel knowing you're already pregnant."

Maggie glares at her and then steps back to smooth her dress over the thickness of her waist. She's not even four months along, but there was an obvious change to her body after years of overt thinness. Beth feels bad about teasing her and reassures, "You don't look pregnant, you look beautiful." Which was true. Maggie literally _glowed_. Even Daryl had said something about it to Beth, making the cliche a true story in the annals of the Greene family history. ("Bet you'd be fucking beautiful like that," he said, and then the realization of what had just come out of his mouth sent a wave of terror over his face. Beth would have laughed if she hadn't been trying so hard not to cry.)

A knock at the door and then Carl's head poking in a moment later made the sisters stop talking. "Y'all ready?" Carl asked, his hair neatly combed. The white shirt and pinstriped tie he wore reminded Beth of how her breath had caught when she came walking out of the bedroom in her bride's maid dress to see Daryl in a three-piece suit. 

It had at once been all wrong, and completely right. He looked totally uncomfortable, but utterly beautiful and Beth had been unable to keep herself from walking right across the room to kiss him. She smoothed her hands up the lapels of the dark navy suit coat, and brought his mouth to hers, despite the gathering of most of their close friends who had congregated at their house since it was closest to the church. There had been a low whistle (from Rick, Beth thought) as Daryl's tongue stroked over hers, and when she pulled back, his cheeks were red, but he muttered, "That was worth it." 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Maggie quips. Carl disappears and she looks back to Beth. "Which means, totally _not_ fucking ready, but it must be because of pregnancy hormones, right? I mean, as far as I'm concerned Glenn and I have been married for years already. Why am I so nervous?"

Beth puts her hands on either side of Maggie's head, careful not to muss her hair-do or her make-up. "You love him, and you're pledging something very important in front of a lot of witnesses. But I bet, as soon as you see him, waitin' for you at the end of that aisle, you're gonna be fine."

Maggie blinks, and tears appear in her eyes. "When did you get so wise, Bethy?" she asks.

Beth smiles. "Oh, I don't know. When I turned 16 and people started coming back from the dead?"

Maggie takes another deep breath, Carl knocks on the door again, and they start down the hall to the chapel. 

It's nothing like they ever thought their lives would be, but in the end, Beth finds perfection in a day that should be filled with sadness. Instead, she feels her father's presence so keenly, she's sure he and both their mothers are part of the crowd watching it all happen.

Prince Charles and Princess Di got nothing on Glenn and Maggie.

 

 

The celebration goes on much longer than Beth anticipated. There never seems to be a good time to tell her sister that early the next morning they're supposed to leave. She and Daryl share a few dances, but neither of them drink, and she suspects it's mostly to keep their heads about them.

As she stands in a group of people watching her sister laugh as Glenn smears cake frosting across her cheek, Daryl's hand wraps around her shoulder. He tucks her against his side, hugging her tightly. His lips brush her temple, and his voice says quietly, "You're not gonna tell her, are you?"

She glances up at him. "I know, I'm the worst hypocrite in the world, right?"

"No," he says generously. "We just shoulda told them way back at the start. Now, it feels wrong to ruin their best day."

Beth sighs. "I'm just gonna write her a letter, ask Carol to give it to her."

Daryl snorts. "You tryin' to get Carol killed? Remember what you did to the messenger?" he chides. "Give it to Michonne. She'll be able to handle Maggie better."

Beth looks back at her sister just in time to see Glenn kiss a big spot of frosting off Maggie's lips. "Tell her we'll make it back, and when we do, we expect them to stand up for us."

Daryl says it so casually that Beth almost doesn't grasp the meaning in his words, but slowly, as she watches the newlyweds kiss sweetly, it penetrates her mind. She whips her head back around to find him watching her very closely. 

Beth swallows, but the big lump in her throat remains. Her choked "Really?" is practically soundless because of the air that is trapped in her lungs.

Daryl's nod is tight, almost imperceptible.

 

 

She leaves an envelope with a few hand-written pages for her sister the next morning with Michonne, who promises to deliver the letter before the evening news, when they will show the procession of volunteers leaving the city gates.

She and Daryl walk out with weapons strapped to their bodies, his old crossbow newly refurbished, and their hands joined together. Once they're outside the wall, they climb up to ride on one of the many trucks loaded with weapons, ammunition, and, most importantly, medicine.

They're only sitting for about five minutes before Daryl's hand reaches for hers again.

And so it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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>  **[Don't freak out, there will be a third story!]**
> 
> Keep your eyes open for _lay your hand on the left behind_ , which will be coming sooner rather than later because Daryl and Beth own me and I've got to get this story out before canon comes and changes everything. I've missed Daryl's POV, so the last story will have both their perspectives.


End file.
